


Annulment

by hawkeward



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Child Death, Execution, Gen, Minor Character Death, Post-Dragon Age II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:21:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkeward/pseuds/hawkeward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“A prince, especially a new one, cannot observe all those things for which men are esteemed, being often forced, in order to maintain the state, to act contrary to faith, friendship, humanity, and religion.” — Niccolo Machiavelli, <i>The Prince</i></p>
<p>Sebastian executes the mages of the Starkhaven Circle personally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Annulment

The first thing Sebastian Vael does after reclaiming Starkhaven is purge the Circle of Magi.

The templars drag out the First Enchanter, force his head down onto the block set up only that morning. Sebastian stands impassive, his hands trembling on the hilt of the immense broadsword that was once his father’s.

Thunk. The blade bites deep into the wood. Blood lashes his face like a whip and he gasps at the heat of it.

He should have known Hawke would stand with his kind, in the end.

His cheeks blaze whenever he thinks of that moment at the foot of the burning Chantry, after the abomination tore apart the place that had been his haven and dragged down a man he had come to respect in a disgusting perversion of mercy. Hawke’s dismissal was like a slap in the face: “Do not interfere.”

Grief for Elthina overcame him, leaving him paralyzed even as every nerve in his body cried out for blood. He failed her, then. He will not do so again.

The templars remove the headless body, depositing it on the pyre erected for that purpose. Then they bring down the next mage.

That one is easier. The one after is easier still.

He returns to the palace every night caked in gore, arms too heavy to lift, the burning-flesh scent of the pyre thick in his nostrils. He sleeps deeply, dreaming of blood and judgement. Rises at dawn every morning ready to begin again.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The endless rhythm of it fills him, purging away all his old thoughts and desires. He can barely remember a time when prayer gave him this feeling. It seems like another lifetime.

Hawke turned away from him in contempt, casting aside years of his loyalty in favor of those who murdered innocents in the name of a freedom they didn’t deserve.

The templars never question him—not when they bring out the apprentices, not when they bring out the Tranquil. They know what happened in Kirkwall. Perhaps this is vengeance, for them. Or perhaps it is simply what they are trained to do, knowing the evil that lurks in the hearts of their charges.

He knows, now more than ever, what a mage can become. How far there is to fall.

Thunk.

He will show them. He will cleanse Kirkwall of the mage-taint that has festered there for too long, beginning with the abomination Anders and ending with Hawke himself. He will bring the Maker’s justice to every mage in Thedas personally, if he has to. His hands still tremble on the sword, but with anticipation.

It is only a matter of time.


End file.
